He leans his hip against the counter and feigns a look of remorse. “That’s too bad. It seems it’s already taken you a while to get this far, so further delays have to be most unwelcome.”
I’m not sure if he’s implying I’m slow or old or both, but it’s undoubtedly an insult, no matter how I examine the statement.
“Life is about the journey, not the destination.” I force a smile, and my eyes slice over to Ari, who has been surprisingly silent. I expected more engagement from someone so confident. Her suave nonchalance has been replaced with bristling irritation kept in tight check with restraint more hardened than tempered steel. When her eyes find mine, they are brimming with apology and frustration before falling to examine the glass of ice in her hand—the glass that had been full minutes
